


A Fire by the Ocean

by yyyugen



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Coran is helpful, Galra Keith (Voltron), Happy Ending, Hunk stress bakes, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Isolation, Kieth is a dirty shower boy, Lance speaks Spanish, Langst, M/M, Multiple Personalities, Panic Attacks, Slow Build, Survival, Telepathic Bond, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-07-16 11:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16084901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yyyugen/pseuds/yyyugen
Summary: "Um, Lance Mclain here, sharpshooter and paladin of Voltron requesting aid and rescue from uh....wherever the hell here is. Rations are starting to get low and my lio...my ship is...um, well let's just say that things don't look like they're getting better any time soon. Sure could use a hand here, or five, or whatever it is your people use to pick people up with. I mean I usually just make corny jokes. But seriously, throw me a rope or a bone here. Anything at all. Please. I just want to go home.""If anyone can even hear me down here."~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~In which Lance is stranded in the dark and the team must scour the universe to find him before he becomes lost for good. Meanwhile, Lance deals with the repercussions of crashing on an alien planet and has been trying to keep from going insane by talking to what he thinks is a dead lion. What he doesn't know is that Keith can hear him just fine.





	1. Splinter

Of all the horrible, certain doom, this is definitely not a drill moments Lance had emerged from relatively unscathed in his time as a paladin of Voltron, this was by far the worst. 

 

Judging by the way his body ached in places he didn't even know he had after being kicked bone-jarringly out of wormhole space, he was going to need a lot of pod time. Also probably a couple tankards of Hunks recent recipe for space hot chocolate. 

 

Then again, who plans for quintessence sucking space cucumbers?

 

Nobody, that's who. 

 

His console garbled weakly at him in Altean before winking out again. The systems were shutting down one by one after his tracking system had been torn out by whatever had attacked him back in the wormhole. Something vital must have gone too because Red wasn't just unresponsive, it felt like the Lion was bleeding out into space somehow. A loud explosion rocked the cabin from below, and Lance clutched at the bayard case on his right desperately as he was thrown violently sideways into the wall with a heavy thud, a loud snapping sound jittering through his mind. At least he hadn't fallen back down onto the multiple shards of display glass littering the floor. Wait a tick.

 

Whoopity doo-da, there goes the anti-grav, he mused darkly as he watched a small parade of blood droplets drift past. At least it couldn't get any worse. 

 

Which naturally was when his lion began going into free fall and gravity reasserted itself with a twisted vengeance, turning Lance's world inside out with pain, pinning him to the cockpit ceiling. He bit back a scream and uselessly flailed at anything he could use to try and pull himself back to his seat, hugging one arm to his side and willing himself to breath through the pain of what was assuredly some nastily fractured ribs. The warning sirens in his ears and in his head synchronizing for a mili-tick before he finally caught a hold on a metal edge with his good arm. 

 

"Just keep it together Red, everything will be okay," Lance mumbled, deciding he was saying it more for himself than for the powerless Lion hurtling through space. Without warning he was flipped again and pinned against the rear door, a piece of stray metal embedding itself in his back. This time Lance couldn't stop the scream from tearing its way out of his throat. Every available display screen was cracked and blinking in and out, and _ay Dios mio_ why did everything have to be spinning. The pulsing red light revealing bits and pieces of reality the cracks consuming the flickering main display hadn't already swallowed. He began to count the rotations, trying to slow his ragged breathing as he struggled to lift his eyes. Stars then not. A sun and then not. Wind whipped clouds, and then not. Sparkling icicles, and then, wait, what was……

 

The screen rushed at him as his head slammed forward with the full weight of his body, widening the cracks, and he knew no more. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Whoooo wants cupcakes?" a certain bushy-eyed Engineer chirped over the castle intercom, twirling a pastry bag still oozing fresh crème-goolait frosting he had just applied to his tiny, perfect models of an old Earth staple. Sure they were a bit on the crunchy side, and the vivid shades of the deco sugar substitute he used may be tip-toeing out of their color spectrum, but gosh danging quiznak these puppies had taken him weeks to master and they were pastry perfection, if you squinted, real hard. 

 

Hunk wiped at a piece of frosting under his chin belatedly wondering if he should have run some of the extra supplies he had hastily procured during their last planet-fall market run by Coran to see if they were edible in the first place. He didn't want a repeat of the last time he tried to bake using unknown ingredients, rubbing his jaw gingerly at the memory.  
Allura had requested the treats after his last rousing walk down memory lane over dinner goo. So he plated them in neat little rows on a platter, scooped it up, and headed towards the bridge. 

 

A Pidge sounding groan made him jump as he entered the lounge, almost spilling the cupcakes in surprise as his head whipped back and forth to locate the sound of distress. A sniffling pile of blankets under-lit by what must be Pidge's tablet caught his attention. Her caramel hair poked up through the handmade hat Coran had gifted her upon learning that humans too could catch the space flu. The Altean engineer may have a knack for picking up new trades, but his first and last attempt at knitting poor Pidge a "head covering warmth bwarfshmangle" as he had so dubbed it with much pomp and reverence, wasn't exactly winning any design awards. The bleary eyed green paladin coughed pathetically in Hunk's direction and gave the tray of colorful goodies the look of an experienced skeptic. 

 

"I'd hazard a guess as to the desired answer being, "Me! Me!" or "hell yeah buddy" but your odds aren't looking good in this reality. Try another." she retorted, sickness unable to dampen her dry humor in the slightest. 

 

Hunk huffed and walked towards her, putting on his best air of mock offense. "Hardy har har. You know, I put a lot of love and effort into making these sweet nuggets of pure happiness for you guys and the least you could do is show some support and try one. Oh wait! Wait Pidge. Listen!" He stooped by her sick nest and waggled a cupcake in front of her nose.

 

"Pidge! Piiiiiddge." he whined, putting on his sweetest tone. "I'm delicious, you know you wanna try all this probably real vanilla frosting with the sprinkles that are definitely not from some weird plant Hunk picked up on the side of the road. I'm chocolate I sweeeaaarrr." Hunk punctuated the last bit by booping Pidge's cherry red nose with the frosting side of the cupcake. 

 

"Augh!" Pidge slapped away the questionable pastry and grabbed one of many tissues littering the floor, "Leave me alone Hunk. I don't have time to be horribly sick, run systems diagnostics the castle's teluduv drives AND suffer another one of your weirdo boredom kitchen experiments!" Hunk backed up quickly to avoid being decapitated by a large hunk of tech tossed none-too-feebly in his direction. Judging by the ferocity of Pidge's hunched shoulders there would be no second battle today. He sighed world wearily and turned to punch the call pad. 

 

"It does kinda taste like vanilla though." came a soft mumble from the pile of blankets and Pidge behind him. 

 

Hunk shot a Lance-like grin at her over his shoulder before ducking between the doors, shutting behind him with a snap. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Keith was having a bad day. 

 

He slid smoothly beneath the next swing of the gladiator's sword, balancing low on the balls of his feet and diving to the side to avoid the next slash that arced down, sparking against the training room floor. Keith spun to avoid the gun blast from its other hand, twisting his bayard up into a diagonal slash that missed the training robot's torso by mere centimeters as it back flipped away. Keith growled in frustration and moved into a more aggressive stance, sword held low, steel glinting as he burst forward. 

 

He had been at this for hours, but he just couldn't get a quiznaking hit in. Maybe he shouldn't have set the stupid thing on so high, maybe he should have tried just turning over and going back to sleep. His distractedness lately had almost cost him the Black Lion in one of their most recent raids on a Galra supply station that had been supposedly abandoned. Well guess what? Not only had it been fully functioning, but they had been expecting him. He'd barely managed to disengage long enough to call for an early wormhole extraction. Even then, the Galra fleet had gotten a few good hits in, and Keith felt his last nerves starting to fray. Not to mention Black's emotions over Shiro leaving then returning out of the blue bleeding through the edges of their already tentative connection. 

Keith was sick and tired of everything. All he wanted was to beat something up until he couldn't feel his arms. 

 

The gladiator, however, was having none of his shit and it ducked to avoid Keith's counter slash and landed a solid punch that knocked the dark haired paladin back, feet skidding on the deck as he checked his balance. Keith roared and closed the distance, feinting left with his bayard then flashing down at the last tick, but the blade met only empty air. The gladiator delivered a solid roundhouse kick that slammed into Keith from behind, flinging him into the simulator wall with an embarrassing thud. 

 

"End training!" He coughed, his muscles complaining loudly at such mistreatment as he pushed himself to standing. His bayard shrunk in his hand almost apologetically as he began ripping at his armor and stalked out, pieces dropping to the ground as he went. Training was supposed to help with the near constant buzz of aggression underneath his skin, not amplify it. 

 

Keith punched the pad next to his door and went straight to the bathing area. As soon as the water hit his over heated skin he felt the tension coiled in his shoulders lessen slightly. Keith was incredibly grateful they had all convinced Coran to install Earth shower units in their quarters. The Altean equivalent had not been all that pleasant, a kind of cleansing sand that had to be wiped off with a blue goo-like substance. Why did everything have to be some kind of goo with Altean customs? Seriously, he could never look the same way at pudding every again. 

 

He tipped his head back and let the water run down his face, soothing his constantly knitted brows as he slowly breathed through his mouth. Could he have survived without a proper shower? Maybe. He'd survived months out in the desert at times without bathing when necessary. Even a week or so here and there during some of the more risky Blade assignments he'd been sent on recently. Showers were as much a necessity to Keith as eyelashes were to the eye. It stopped things from getting stuck in his head, kept him somewhat clear and grounded. They also had the added benefit of making him look damn fine too. Not that that part really mattered. 

 

His fingers brushed against his side and he winced. He looked down to see the beginnings of a leg-shaped bruise traveling across his ribs. Shiro would never let him hear the end of it if anyone found out he had gone against a level 9 gladiator in the middle of the night. He groaned and let his head fall forward against the glass. 

 

 _"……together Red……everything will …….kssshh AAAAAAUUUUUUHHHHN..hah……….."_

 

Keith's eyes snapped open, his entire body going cold despite the heat of the water running down his back. He closed his eyes and shuddered, bringing a hand up to his ear and listening intently for more. The only sound he could hear was the gentle patter of water falling from his hair onto the tiles below. 

 

Was that…Lance he just heard in his head? But it couldn't be. Lance was supposed to be away in the middle of the safest mission they had, a simple recon mission to a planet they had already visited and had promised to deliver supplies to from a point farther along their rapidly expanding ally network. 

 

And yet, it had sounded so clear in his head. He'd know that voice anywhere. Then again, maybe it was just mission fatigue. He really hadn't properly slept since they got Shiro back. Seeing how he was the only one who could pilot the Black Lion anyways, he had been sent on nearly every mission they'd had since, diplomatic or not. It was probably just a hallucination. Like back home when he wandered for days in the desert, hoping to find the source of that strange pull that had literally dragged them all out into the middle of a freaking space war. Yeah, it was probably just the tired talking. He ran a hand through his hair and reached for the towel hanging just outside the unit. 

 

Maybe a couple hours of pretending to sleep would make how he was feeling all seem like a bad dream. 

 

Or a more realistic hallucination. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Someone was stabbing him in the chest repeatedly, Lance was sure of it. 

 

His eyes flew open as adrenaline hit him like a freight train and he gasped for breath. His entire body _ached_. The stillness of the Lion cockpit was lit by a pale orange glow seeping through a large gash extending across almost half the ceiling. That couldn't be good for Red, but it barely held a candle to the mind constricting pain that had awoken him. His chest felt like there was something hot and sharp stuck inside of it and every breath just twisted it deeper. Panic began to nibble along the edges of the pain. 

 

He brought his hands up to his chest, but there was nothing there. Must be internal, his thoughts sifting sluggishly through memories of chest wounds he'd received and this was like nothing he'd ever felt before. There was something his big sister used to say to him about emergency protocol. Soup? No, no that wasn't it. He could sure go for some soup right about now though. Maybe a cup or three of Hunk's special du jour, even if it was still green half the time he could just close his eyes and pretend it was split peas. He shivered even as sweat was pouring down his face, trickling down into his ears, making every breath sound like he was slowly drowning. Heh, what a Lance way to go, he thought grimly. 

 

He felt around his chest again with hands that were slowly going numb. One side wasn't moving. _Quiznak._ He'd seen stuff like this on Veronica's medical dramas. She always used to ask him to sit with her and braid her hair for luck when she had a big test the next day. They'd round up all the junk food they could lay their hands on and watch old Earth shows while she studied. He'd especially liked the one with the grizzled grumpy doctor with the cane. He used to make her laugh by doing impressions of the patients on the show while she pelted him with caramel popcorn and called him a _conejito._

 

A wheezy chuckle escaped his chapped lips, which of course almost made him pass out. Keep it together Lance. He could do this. He just needed something long and sharp. Spreading his arms, he started to grope around. His search yielded a handful of metal shards and one or two glass pieces about the length of his hand from what he assumed was his all but useless helmet lying nearby. 

 

Lance desperately wished he could take a deep breath. If he didn't do something soon however, he wouldn't be able to breath at all. His grip on the glass was already weakening. Soon his consciousness would be gone as well. That wouldn't be good, he thought lethargically as he reached up to unbuckle the upper left half of his armor that had been left hanging on him after the crash. 

 

He fastened his hand over his chest, fingers splayed to help guide the glass. He could barely make out the edges of the shard glistening in the orange light through oxygen deprived tunnel vision. He just prayed he got his aim right. 

 

After all, he had a reputation to uphold, he told himself as he slammed the point down. 

 

Blood filled his mouth as he let out an ugly wet cough, the glass sinking in between his ribs with a squelch. Immediately the pressure released, sending sweet oxygen to his brain as he was finally able to gurgle a full breath. He turned his head to one side and simply let the blood run out of his mouth as he gasped for air, not having the energy to do anything else but sucking in as much oxygen as he could. If feeling like being stabbed in the chest hurt, actually stabbing himself had hurt far worse. At least he could feel both sides of his chest rising shallowly, even if they were still on fire. He still felt like a weblum had landed on him and rolled around for good measure. He lay there for a dobash or two while his brain caught up to the fact that he wasn't dead. 

 

Yet. 

 

Ignoring the sensation of his brain doing its very best impression of a turntable, Lance pushed himself up slowly onto his elbows, hissing as a piece of glass pricked at his skin through a smashed bit of armor. As he shifted his torso something in his left hip pulled uncomfortably, but that would have to wait for now. The first major concern on his horrible space tragedy assessment list was the giant piece of glass still sticking out of his chest. Peachy. Blood was welling up thickly along the edges and dripping down his chest in time with his breath. His labored breathing had helped to slow the blood flow somewhat at least, he'd have to do something about that first before he bled out. 

 

Half the cabin was in deep shadow, making it difficult to see much of anything besides the piece of glass glinting in the orange light behind him. So he forced himself to breath through his nose and started crawling backwards, gritting his teeth against the sobs of pain he so desperately wanted to release as every movement pulled his muscles taut against his ribs. At least the movement was loosening the shard in his chest, which oh ever loving quiznak did that hurt the worst. 

 

After what seemed like hours Lance leaned heavily against the back wall at last, directly under the light filtering in from outside. He was so tired, his small gasps of pain sounded so far away. But he had a sinking feeling that if he went to sleep now he might never wake up. Just don't panic, he told himself. Or maybe he should panic. Keeping his adrenaline up would keep blood flowing to his brain, but also out of his body faster, not to mention the crash afterwards which might very well kill him outright. Get it together Lance. You're a paladin of _Voltron por el amor de Christo._ The team flickered for half a tick inside his mind, a warm thought he could hold onto, even though at times it also made him feel so terribly cold. 

 

"What would Keith do?" he whispered to nobody. 

 

As if in answer, his shaking hands came up and steadied the glass shard against his chest. One seated around the entry point and one gripping the middle, the sharp toothed edges faintly sinking into the thin gloves of his suit. He closed his eyes and gave the glass a tiny experimental tug, the pain of which whited out his vision for a tick or ten. That was so not going to work. On the count of three then. No wait that would make him even more scared to do it. He let out a shuddering sigh and shook his head. He needed some kind of mental distraction. 

What about that time Hunk and Pidge had collaboration to make an actual game set of Monopoly to introduce the princess to Earth forms of bonding exercises? She had gotten so angry at being made to pass 'Go' so many times, he began to rig his rolls so he'd land on her properties as much as possible. Later on, Coran had somehow gotten his hands on all the utilities and they all had to explain to a quickly reddening Keith, who had kept landing on them, how taxation and bills worked. Keith's face had been utterly priceless, a mixture of a confused and grumpy that had made him look like a constipated puppy with a face full of bees. Oh man how could he have forgotten that. The very next day he even…

 

"Guuaaahhh!" 

 

Lance cried out as he jerked his hand up and the improvised blade pulled free with a squelch. He heaved through a sob and pressed the hand on his chest as hard as he could while the other fell to the ground beside him, the bloodied glass tinkling off into the dark. 

 

He shivered as his body's shock response kicked in for the second time in a varga, head lolling to the side as he struggled to breath evenly. He had to……he had to stay strong. The universe had pretty much tried to kill him every day since he had jumped in the Blue Lion and never looked back. Sometimes he thought about what his life would have been like had he just walked away from the cool, calming energy that had brushed against his hands that day. He would probably be starting final testing at the Garrison right about now, his commander still non-too pleased that he'd made the grade by the a matter of sheer luck and circumstance. A sinking feeling hit him suddenly as he wondered if Hunk and Pudge would even still be his friends. Maybe Pidge would have already been transferred out to a more advanced squad based on her latest test scores. Hunk might not have even cleared his last physical if he hadn't gotten his stomach under control. Shiro would be the Garrison guinea pig. Voltron would have never been formed, so Allura and Coran would still be under cryo in the lifeless castle. And Keith……he probably would have never seen Keith again after refusing Blue. His free hand clenched and unclenched reflexively as he tore himself away from his own thoughts. 

 

Judging by the lack of seepage from under his palm, the bleeding had slowed enough for him to take his hand off his chest for the time being. There was still a heavy copper taste in his mouth when he took a deeper breath, but his lungs seemed to be out of danger as well. Bringing his hands up to his head, Lance began to check himself for further signs of injury. A technique Shiro had taught them all in one of their more survivalist based training exercises. He hadn't really been paying too much attention of course, Keith had looked so serene when he closed his eyes and smoothed his hands over his torso. Like he'd done it a thousand times before. Stupid mullet really was a natural at just about anything Lance thought grumpily as he poked softly at his ribs, wincing as his right hand revealed several highly painful spots. At least his stomach and spine seemed to be in one piece. It was when his fingertips pushed into his left hip that he realized something was terribly wrong. 

 

He looked down and immediately knew that his leg was broken. 

 

It was splayed to the side limply, toes so far rolled outwards all of them were almost touching the floor. Just below the knee was a bloody mess of flesh, a single white sliver of bone listing up like the flag on a sinking ship. Lance's stomach churned unpleasantly at the sight and his eyes slid away, the fear and pain he had been trying to hold back until now washing up over him like a black tide as pushed hands slicked with blood up against his eyes. Every wracking breath made him cough and hiccup horribly but he couldn't stop. Crying was probably about the last thing he should be doing right now, but he didn't care if his chest wound began bleeding openly again or if his ribs broke off to pierce his heart or if the Galra should find him right then and put him out of his misery. He just couldn't handle this alone anymore. 

 

The worst part wasn't knowing that he was in bad shape. No. 

 

It was that he knew what he had to do to fix it, and it scared the hell out of him.


	2. Alarm

"Red….p….please….."

 

 

~~_help me_ ~~

 

 

Lance didn't know if he had the strength to do what needed to be done. If the numbness creeping through his pelvis was any indicator, he couldn't put it off for very long. He sagged further against the wall and whimpered, downcast eyes tracing a line down from his mangled leg towards the cockpit controls which were smashed almost beyond recognition. Poor Red, he was perhaps the least mechanically inclined of the group. How was he going to fix her when he couldn't even tell what it was he was looking at? Hope leapt in his chest as he saw the faintest flash of red. Hope that was immediately crushed when he heard the soft plop of the blood that had dripped slowly down the back of the pilot seat. It was coming a spot from where he'd hit the ceiling. Wonderful. A pool ominously spread beneath it, reflecting orange light onto a panel that had popped open along the bottom edge. Altean script was printed on the side in a brilliant red. He whispered a prayer that it read, "For Use in Emergencies. Especially for the dumb one." He'd only come to expect the last part by now.

 

 

Lance rolled slowly onto his right elbow, supporting it with his left hand to help scoot his body forward towards the panel, arms buckling on him a few times sending shocks of pain shooting through his already traumatized torso when it bumped against the floor. A few light pulls was all it took to get the panel open as it was, the box inside blissfully undamaged by the crash. He scooted back again unable to keep himself propped up on his elbows for long, and rested for a dobash to allow the room to stop wavering in and out of focus.

 

 

When he clicked the lid open he tried not to giggle, he really did, though it came out as more of a gurgle. Within the precious container was a couple rolls of clean white bandages, four packs about the size of his palm of what looked like teal goo, ten small vials of a yellowish liquid, a scissors like claw tool, a small white knife, and a weird curving syringe. Lance already knew what the yellow liquid was for, Coran had given it to Hunk when he burned himself with oil in one of his more dangerous cooking experiments right before going into the healing pods. He'd said that It helped prepare the body for superficial healing. Lance cracked one open and swallowed it down, and couldn't help but sputter at the taste.

 

 

"Ugh, tastes like hair gel and sweaty armpits," he mumbled as his tongue tingled under the medicine's effect. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting instead, given the nature of most Altean concoctions he'd had the privilege of experiencing. He could never get used to nunvill, no matter how Coran buttered him up. 

 

 

Immediate warmth spread  from the center of his chest outwards. Breathing came easier, even his leg didn't seem to bother him so much to look at. A cold feeling swept over him as he still knew the hip still needed to be popped back in, he just needed to pretend he was going to be okay for a little longer. Needed to believe his team mates would find him, somehow. Without a working lion, on some distant planet the wormhole had dropped him on, sitting in the alien twilight with nothing but a container full of hope sitting on his lap. He hung his head and focused on each breath.

 

 

It wasn't that Lance was afraid of pain. _Quiznak_ he'd been shot, shocked, punched, thrown, even blown up and put into a coma once. If anything he'd come to expect pain every time the alarm would sound calling the paladins of Voltron out to defend the universe. Being human was about how you dealt with pain, and Lance was like a well used sponge by this point. Corners crumbling, but toughened and stained from multiple washings. The thing Lance was most afraid of was what might happen if he couldn't soak all of this up. Or what might happen if the sponge couldn't wring it all out again.

 

 

Ever since he was little, Lance had never truly been alone. As soon as he had tearfully hugged the last family member goodbye before boarding the plane bound for the garrison he had nearly vomited from nerves all over the person in the seat next to him. He hadn't expected that person to reacted by barfing into their own bag kindly provided by the crew. Which was of course how he had met his best buddy Hunk, even though it was a story he would take to his grave and he knew Hunk would never tell a soul after they had sworn to the brotherhood of the bag. Ever since then they'd been pretty much attached at the hip. Cracking a tired smile, he wondered how they were all doing, waiting for him to return from a mission he never even started. 

 

 

~~_what if they never know?_ ~~

 

 

"Hey Red," he murmured, his throat throbbing weakly. "you listening? Think I'm gonna loose my marbles if you really are, so I'm just gonna pretend like you're just sleeping real deep, kay?" He stopped and listened for a tick or two, the steady drip, drip of blood having slowed to a sodden plop every now and then, Lance couldn't really tell where it was coming from anymore. For a moment, a faint rumble cut through the silence shrouding his lion from whatever reality was waiting just outside her hull.

 

 

Lance let out a shuddering sigh. "It's okay. I know we haven't been together very long but you have to wake up. Please. I need…I need you to be okay. I don't do being alone very well." Memories rose unbidden from his subconscious even as he struggled to swallow them down again. He was in no way prepared to deal with that mess right now.

 

 

~~_you'll never walk again_ ~~

~~_voltron will become little more than a lawn ornament and everyone will know just how useless you really are_ ~~

 

 

More silence. What sort of force made a vessel that embodied the essence of life feel so dead?

 

 

"Okay then, guess it'll just be pulling a little extra weight here," he sighed. "Just gonna to be you and me. Bonny 'n Clyde. Razzling Red and Lancey Lance, the movie. Red 'n Lance's brotacular brostraganza. Though Red's more your color than mine."

 

 

~~_you really ought to do something about that_ ~~

 

 

Using the jammed rear compartment door opening for support, he shimmied his way up so his back was straight against the wall. Lance's heart was pounding unsteadily in his ears, his confidence faltering when his eyes fell again on his mutilated leg. Just the idea of touching it let alone picking it up at the moment was already making his vision swim, sweat reviving the semi-dried blood on his palms. Was that blue goo an anesthetic or an ice pack? Either way he couldn't afford to waste it.

 

 

"Welp, here goes nothing."

 

 

Lance grasped the unresponsive thigh and pulled his knee up towards his chest slowly, keenly aware of how his quickly his breathing had picked up, practically hyperventilating already. His lower leg dangled uselessly below the knee as he held up the leg in arms trembling with both the exertion and the sheer pain. He stopped, hugging the dislocated half to him as he struggled to even out his breathing. Spots were already dancing before his eyes and if he dropped the limb now before putting his hip back in……well he didn't want to think about how much that would hurt. It was a good thing he was so flexible. Or maybe that was a bad thing. How did this even happen? His hip with a subtle stab of pain that he was getting off track.

 

 

Okay, now for the hard part. He just had to pull the leg up and out and pray that it was dislocated on the correlating side or this was gonna hurt like hell and not fix anything. Lance braced one hand on his knee, the other under his thigh, and slowly took a deep breath into his battered lungs.

 

 

Digging his fingers in as hard as he could, he could worry about bruising later, he pulled up and twisted out…

 

 

 

…and screamed, a raw desperate sound that pounded against the ruined walls. But his hip remained stubbornly outside its socket.

 

 

_Maldita sea_ he hadn't twisted hard enough. Anger joined the coursing hurt flowing through him and he wrenched his leg out again along with a long, heavy keening noise as he held it there. No luck. The copper taste in his mouth had returned. He rotated his leg back, trying from another angle even as he was pretty sure he was going to pass out any tick. Nothing, this time the scream that left his lips was more of a forceful whimper. He kept going. Come on. Come _ON_. One more time. One more. Please go in. _Please_. Please

 

 

On one particularly hard pull he was finally rewarded with a loud wet sucking pop that he felt more than heard. Lance panted, utterly exhausted and struggled to put down the leg as gently as he could. Which was far faster than he would have liked, but it didn't really matter because he had never felt a muscle _throb_ quite like his thigh was now. He could literally see his quad muscles bunch and jump through his suit and every time lighting would shoot through his hip and up into his spine. Over, and over again.

 

Shit. Shit. Shit this was too much. _Too much_. He couldn't control his leg, he couldn't control anything. So he just  crumpled into a pile around the med kit, right leg pulled under him and his left straight out spasming as the nerves reconfirmed that yep, this was very much still a leg he had attached to his body. He almost wished it wasn't.

 

"Hauh….hnnnnnh aahh…….sto….ggghnnn…………….what is..gaaauuhhhhh…..r….red..….AUHHH _PLEASE_." he sobbed, unable to think or process anything except the blinding pain choking him slowly.

 

 

~~_i'm scared_ ~~

 

 

And then every muscle in his leg contracted as one, lifting his leg clear off the ground.

 

 

The second it landed his head jerked up reflexively and slammed into the floor, swallowing him whole.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Keith bolted upright, wide awake as if he'd just been running from a dust storm. He was drenched with sweat enough for that to be true, only not for the fact he was sitting in bed with his blankets bunched around him like they had been kicked around by a giant cat. His fingers clutched at the soft fabric as he tried to push the phantom sensations crawling over his skin, sparking like he was submerged in slightly electrocuted water. It made his toes twitch uncomfortably. He took a few deep breaths and the feeling lessened some but stubbornly remained. Fuck this, he thought brusquely. The ship's intercom blipped on just as his head was about to hit the pillow.

 

 

"Paladins. Please report to the bridge immediately. I repeat, please report to the bridge immediately."

 

 

Keith bounced up grouchily and his eyes swiveled toward the clock next to the bed. 5:30 CTA, great he'd only slept a grand total of two hours. He wiped his hands on the covers and swung his legs out of bed, automatically reaching underneath for a fresh set of clothes. The shocks had stopped short as soon as his feet had touched the ground. Was it just static electricity from his blankets or something? He let out a long breath he didn't know he'd been holding and pushed away the remaining dream cloudiness fogging up the edges of his mind. Normally his brain didn't usually have the time or luxury of conjuring such dreamscapes. Weird. He pulled on his boots and headed to the bridge.

 

 

When Keith entered the first thing he noticed was the quiet. Allura, Shiro, and the others all stood in a huddle in front of the command platform. The star map was out, Pidge pointing up at a glowing red dot a few systems out, mumbling something to Allura. Keith couldn't make out what she was saying from the elevator, but she did not sound excited about whatever it was she had discovered. He stepped forward.

 

 

"Ah, Keith. You have arrived." Allura turned to face him with soft eyes and he was instantly on edge, again. He'd only seen that look on Allura's face when Shiro hadn't come out of his room for three days. Or the time Coran had accidentally been zapped by the engine core when doing routine maintenance and they had to put him in the healing pods. It was a look of concern, and Keith didn't like where this was going. Not one bit.

 

 

"It's not like you to be the last to arrive, are you feeling alright?" She was coddling him. Figures. With all the training missions Kolivan had sent him on as of late, Allura was probably worried he was distancing himself from the team on purpose. Yet without those missions Keith was worried he'd end up taking out his sleepless aggressions out on them instead of the Galra data gathering installments and communication satellites. Even those assignments had been few and far between over the past week. The last thing he needed was Allura focusing her iron will towards getting Keith on a proper sleep schedule. It just wasn't going to happen, he'd tried.

 

 

"I'm fine. Just a headache. What's going on?" He stopped short next to Shiro, who had probably called the meeting after just getting back from his own mission no doubt. They had little down time these days since the search for Lotor had begun. There was just so much liberation and recovery work for Voltron while they were building the coalition. Work that Keith was very ill suited for. His hands itched for his dagger as he surveyed the group looking at him and…..

 

Why _were_ they all looking at him like that?

 

The softness in Allura's eyes deepened towards sadness and she glanced down for the barest of moments before meeting his eyes supportively.

 

"Lance…missed his check in window."

 

 

What?

 

 

He felt a hand land firmly on his shoulder, grounding his immediate fight or flight response. Shiro knew him, knew the reactions Keith usually had when faced with stressful situations. His words echoed inside Keith's mind as he spoke.

 

"I just got back from my mission," No, no this was all wrong. His tone was too low, too soft. That was the voice Shiro used when there was something he wanted to protect Keith from. "Lance was supposed to get here before me. Three vargas ago."

 

His pupils blew wide open.

 

Pidge's scratchy voice helpfully chipped in, "We contacted the Lazurians a few minutes ago, but they say he hasn't been seen or heard from since he sent a message confirming their status right after he left. We're scanning for Red now."

 

Keith's head snapped up. The star map seemed to have revealed no signs so far, but the scan was still incomplete. Breath. An image rose unbidden in his mind. Lance, tears frozen on his face twisting in horror as he sunk slowly beneath blood red waves. He closed his eyes, chasing the phantom image as it slipped away. What was going on? Breath. He could hear a faint voice. Someone was speaking again. It took Keith a minute for his ears to pick up that the vibrations were being directed at him and he opened his eyes, the calming yellow of Hunk's headband coming sharply into focus right in front of him. Below it the yellow paladin was speaking softly, worry written between his eyes and in the corners of his mouth.

 

"Keith, can you hear me buddy? That's it." Hunk was kneeling, a hand on Keith's unoccupied shoulder. Funny, he couldn't remember sinking to the floor. "We just have to wait for the scan to complete it's cycle and we'll find Red which will lead us to Lance. We'll find him. It's probably just a system error. Everything is going to be alri….."

 

 

Shrill beeping cut Hunk's words of encouragement short. A single message was displayed in large, red Altean script in the middle of the display that needed no translation.

 

 

**Target not found.**

 

 

Hands once limp with disbelief now curled into angry fists, a thin line of blood dripping from one side and onto the floor.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

A sharp, bitter odor filled his nose, and Lance moaned with discomfort. His body felt like lead, skin damp and clammy. He tried to place the nauseating odor filling his nostrils, but as he shifted the wetness that had soaked through his pants onto the floor answered that question pretty quick. Just great. It took immense effort to pry his eyes open the tiniest bit. Even thinking proved difficult, which was no small wonder as there was definitely a migraine was currently pounding around inside of his head.  Either that or a herd of robeasts were doing the can-can on top of his brain, he didn't really care. He just wanted it to stop.

 

 

_~~you can, you know~~ _

 

 

He tried to turn his head to look up at the gaping wound in the ceiling but his hair was stuck to the floor and pulled at his scalp insistently, his cheek peeling away from a sticky puddle that had congealed around his head. He drew in a sharp breath and winced, the small motion alone sending a heavy twinge through his chest. Oh yeah, he was going to need so much hot chocolate. Pidge wouldn't be getting her game console back for at least a month. Maybe three. Reaching up as carefully as he could, every movement an agony that needed to be done, he slid his fingers between the floor and his head. There was blood everywhere, his face was practically covered though his eyes were blessedly clear of it. When he finished separating the last clumps of hair, Lance gritted his teeth and forced himself to push up and sit up again against the metal door. He dragged the med kit with him and paused while he caught his breath and pushed the pain back into their respective tubes one by one. This was not going to be pleasant.

 

 

Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids and he groaned at the thought of going through all the effort of laying down again. How long had he even been out? His only source of light didn't seem to be getting any dimmer at least. It was a small comfort, but he'd take it. There wasn't much else left at the moment. He'd lost a lot of blood already. The stab wound on his chest was still leaking, though his other wounds appeared to have clotted somewhat. His eyes fell to the med kit tucked against his stomach. He was definitely going to need more than two rolls of bandages.

 

 

First he needed to clean the wounds out somehow. Behind him the door was stuck wide open, just beyond he knew Red had a compartment for supplies and passengers. Even though she was the lightest of the five lions, Everyone had to be ready to evacuate prisoners or coalition fighters at a moment's notice, injuries were always a constant concern. Coran typically saw to the outfitting and upkeep of the lion interiors, while Hunk and Pidge always worked on technical repairs. There were days Lance saw Keith roped into assisting Coran on his routine checks of the storage units aboard each lion. Those days he made sure to tease Keith a little less than usual. Just a tiny bit.

 

 

"Welp….I'm not…. just going to sit here…… getting any deader." he wheezed softly. Wrapping his left arm around his torso for support, Lance reached over with his right and grabbed onto the edge of the door frame and pulled himself towards it slow but steadily. He half crawled, half dragged himself through the opening, pushing debris and gasps of pain aside as he went. The space inside was slightly cramped compared to his lanky frame, amounting to little more than a glorified walk in closet. Three of the walls were recessed with seats built into the bottoms that doubled as storage units. Lance settled himself in the middle of the cold floor and pulled open the handle in front of him.

 

 

The first compartment held nothing but blankets and a few sets of plain Altean clothing, little more than shifts of white cloth, but what caught Lance's eye was a padded black jacket tucked in the far back. Score. He grabbed a single blanket and closed the drawer, most of that would have to wait for now. The second center compartment contained what looked like compressed ration blocks. Lance's head pulsed, sending tendrils of nausea down into his stomach at the thought of eating right now, though he knew he wouldn't be able to replace all the blood he'd lost without it. Still, this much would last him a couple weeks, maybe more if he was extremely careful.

 

 

~~_how much luck do you think you're gonna have out here? better not waste it_ ~~

 

 

He slid open the last drawer and was greeted by rows upon rows of blessed water bottles. _Gracias, a Dios._ Lance closed his eyes for a moment, even feeling feelings was taxing his already tapped out nervous system. He grabbed a bottle, the cool metal side sticking to his hand slightly. They were a bit on the small side, he took two and carefully upended them over the blanket he'd left bunched on the floor before letting them drop and roll away back towards the main cabin. Taking the dampened blanket in his free hand, he began gingerly wiping the blood from his face, hands, and chest.

 

 

It was slow going, what little light that was able to creep around the door edges hindering his ability to see the chest wound properly. When the swiping cloth found the hypersensitive edges Lance's only reaction was little more than a twitch, the fight long gone from his pain receptors. 

 

 

Once he was pretty sure he felt the surface blood was mostly gone, he scooted up closer to the light and pulled the white knife out of its sheath. The armor pieces of his suit had all but fallen off, what remained being so splintered it was easily removed with a few slices to the straps. The unsteadiness in his hands caused a few nicks here and there, but Lance hardly felt them. He set about cutting away the soiled suit fabric, squeezing his eyes shut as it peeled away from his skin. The fabric had become semi-embedded in his leg wound, forcing him to use the knife to help lift it out. He almost passed out again once he got it free. Better set down the knife before he accidentally jammed it into his thigh.

 

 

Lance shivered. Without the insulation of the suit he could feel the chill in the air starting to seep into his skin. Better do this quick than add hypothermia to his things to probably survive checklist. 

 

 

He grabbed three more bottles and another blanket for good measure. He started with the leg wound, struggling to steady his hand as he hiccupped every time the cold water splashed against his open flesh. He dabbed at the sluggishly oozing blood with a dry corner of the first towel, then opening one pack of the gel he squeezed about half of it over the gash. He clenched his teeth against the fresh pain, flashing brightly against the backdrop of dark squeezing aches that had slowly become his new constant. Cutting the fresh blanket in half, he gentled wrapped his leg with it and secured the whole thing with a roll of bandages. Lance repeated the procedure with his chest and then his head, exhausted and leaning heavily against the edge of a seat by the time he was finished.

 

 

Weakly kicking the bloodied blankets and the remains of his soiled suit into a corner of the room with his good leg, he removed the last two blankets and the jacket, pulling his arms through the sleeves. He was so cold, but there was no way it would zip over his chest bandages. So he forced himself to sip at some water left in one of the bottles he'd used and balled up one blanket on the ground, wrapping himself in the other and slowly laying down on his right side. He let out a bone rattling sigh.

 

 

"Red…." he whispered, "..if I don't……wake up…." quiznak, he hadn't felt this tired since the time his family had gone to Canada to visit Marco and Lance had fallen in a frozen lake when they went skating together. Only this time he didn't have his older brother to feed him soup and the young ones to read him the children's books they'd brought from home for the plane ride. Sometimes he tried to imagine their voices whenever he pulled one of his favorite novels out of the database Coran had downloaded from Earth's library servers. What he wouldn't give to hear them again right now. He closed his eyes

 

 

~~_go to sleep_ ~~

 

 

"…would you tell everyone…………I'm sorry……….."

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

No.

 

 

This wasn't happening.

 

 

Suddenly everyone was moving and talking at once. Allura was swiping through the star map, locating the exact section of space they had dropped Lance off in the wormhole hours ago. She was speaking, calm and in control as usual despite the slight tremor that ran through her voice, to Pidge who was hovering next to her mumbling something about scans.  Coran was fidgeting nervously beside them, pacing back and forth and piping up every time Allura asked about a calculation or detail about their missions of late. Standing nearby with his arms crossed, Shiro looked on with a worried expression clouding his face. Keith's brain short circuited. Why wasn't anyone moving towards their lions? How could they just stand there? Lance was missing and the castle had no freaking clue where he was! Keith's nostrils flared, his heart pounding in his chest as he slowly stood, oblivious to the self inflicted pain in his palm.

 

"Did you factor in the radiation from the star that went supernova in this sector eight vargas ago?"

 

"Yes, of course I did. There's still no sign of the Red Lion. Perhaps if I adjust the frequency…"

 

"Who was supposed to check in with him? We should have checked in with him…"

 

"Hunk, now is not the time."

 

"He should have exited around here Princess! The Lazurians have assured me there has been no activity for nearly a quintent…"

 

"What if he's not in the Red Lion? We should go there and confirm visually." Thank you Shiro. Why don't they?

 

"That's not a bad idea, but there have been reports of increased Galra activity in that sector. Without Voltron we should only pursue that course of action once we've had time to…."

 

" ** _WHO CARES?!_** "

 

They all stopped and turned to look at him, wide eyed. Keith was trembling with rage. He had no idea why he was so angry. So scared. He hadn't felt like this in a long time, the last time being right before he met Shiro, which was right after his dad died. But Lance wasn't dead but that didn't mean he was alright. They didn't know anything. 

 

He lifted his eyes and stared at Allura defiantly. Right now, he was damn well not going to let a couple Galra cruisers stop them from finding Lance. What if…..what if he was……

 

 

"Keith." Allura regarded him sadly. "We have to consider all possible approaches with a clear mind. If we…."

 

 

"You don't think I know that?!" he spat, voice cracking as he let the volume raise. It felt right. They should be angrier, why wasn't anyone angry about this? They needed to take action _now_. "When has a few Galra cruisers ever stopped us in the past? Lance is out there and we have to find him! He could be hurt! What is wrong with you people?!"

 

A hulking shadow suddenly appeared as Hunk stepped before him. Keith had never seen such an expression on the other paladin's face, he looked furious but at the same time there were the beginnings of tears in the corners of his darkening eyes. Good, Keith thought. At least someone is angry.

 

At least, it was good before Hunk gave him a hard shove. His eyes flashed and Keith stumbled to catch his footing before staring up at the taller boy in shock.

 

"You don't know what you're talking about." Hunk muttered, his eyes locked on Keith like he was a target to be eliminated. Normally Keith would have backed down and left, knowing when to leave an emotionally charged situation before he became the spark that made the other party explode. Shiro had taught him how to recognize his triggers from his time in the Garrison. He should have been able to, but he couldn't find the controls. It was far too late for that now, his fingers were still itching from his lackluster training session earlier. It had just been a matter of time.

 

 

So he swept forward with a growl and punched Hunk right in the jaw.

 

 

Which the other boy had clearly been expecting, despite taking the hit. Hunk grabbed Keith's arm buried his other hand straight into his stomach, the air exploding out of Keith with a wheeze. He grit his teeth against the urge to vomit and coiled his legs beneath him, leaping and twisting his arm out of the larger boy's grasp at the same time, aiming a roundhouse at the back of Hunk's head. But his foot met only empty air as his opponent ducked at the last second and grabbed his leg, slamming Keith onto the ground with a grunt. He rolled and pushed himself up onto all fours, spitting blood from where he bit his tongue and looked up at Hunk who had his fists raised, an unbecoming scowl painted across his features.

 

"ENOUGH!"

 

They both whipped their heads around at the sound, Keith was just about ready to jump at whoever it was and stopped himself short. Shiro stepped forward between them, arms held up pleadingly. His eyes anything but, looking at them both with a tight, disappointed expression.

 

"You two need to calm down right now and think this through. If we just rush out there we could all end up cut off just like Lance."

 

Hunk stiffened, then dropped his arms to his sides limply. Eyes downcast as the fight drained out of him. Keith stood and brushed his pants off absently, narrowing his eyes in Hunk's direction before crossing his arms and staring at Shiro's shoes. He was trying to be calm about this, but admittedly he was failing badly. He always did. He huffed and met the black paladin's concerned gaze. Trying to communicate his distress without violence, praying that Shiro would get it.

 

Shiro nodded and lowered his hands passively. "That's better. I think we all need to have a little more trust in our teammates in this situation." Was he talking about him? Keith was pretty sure it was about him. "Hunk, I know you're stressed and worried about Lance, but we all are. Can you stay here with Pidge and Coran and see about figuring out a way to bypass the Galra fleets?" Hunk gave a barely perceptible nod, his left eye already beginning to swell slightly. "Okay good, now Keith." Shiro turned to face him.

 

"Come with me. You and I need to hit the training deck." Shiro exaggerated the motion of settling his prosthetic hand on Keith's shoulder. He flinched anyway despite the courtesy, but allowed Shiro to gently yet firmly begin to guide him towards the elevator. It was only for a little bit, he told himself. Just so he could stop feeling like he was going crazy. He walked into the elevator with Shiro and closed his eyes.

 

 

_"……though Red's more your color than mine."_

 

 

Keith peered up at the white tufted paladin, who had one hand held up pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. He was pretty sure Shiro hadn't heard anything besides the hum of power running through the elevator as it whisked them through the ship. Which meant that Keith was possibly the only one who was hearing things. That was never a good sign. He pinched the skin on his wrist until it bruised. Nothing changed. The elevator doors swished open as they reached the deck, and Keith walked through after Shiro in a daze.

 

 

Maybe he was going crazy.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! A new chapter! And much sooner than I had originally planned. Keith needs so much sleep (as do I, bluh). I've been thinking about this story a lot recently and wanting to get through the set up phase and into the meat of it. Even if it means that the poor dears have to go through so much. At least Lance has food and water, right? Right?


	3. Tone

_"...I'm not…"_

 

Sweat poured down Keith's face, practically plastering his mullet to his neck as he moved. He couldn't stop the faint tremors that still ran through his legs every time he took a step. Having to blink so much sweat out of his eyes was getting annoying. When had it gotten so hot?

 

His blurred vision sharpened suddenly on a form rushing towards him to his left.

 

Oh yeah.

 

Shiro aimed a bladed jab towards his throat, his eyes having lost their worried haze for intense focus. Instead of dancing away from the attack like he usually would with a gladiator, Keith turned and snarled, leaning into the glowing fingertips grazing his jaw as he wrapped both arms around the limb and threw his weight back, sending the older paladin crashing to the floor. Shiro released a short gasp of surprise as he rolled backwards up onto his feet, the small smile he flicked at Keith sending a surge of determination through him.

 

Between getting back on his feet after being rescued and the ongoing publicity they had going to bring the fight to Zarkon, Keith hadn't been able to get a lot of time with Shiro to himself. Sure they spoke in passing in the halls, over food goo, and during strategy meetings before infiltrating Galra operations. These training sessions just meant far more. They reminded him of when he had been just a kid at the academy and Shiro would take him into the backyard for meditation sessions. Or rather, attempted meditation. It hadn't lasted long. Though Shiro quickly figured out that a light bout of sparring both calmed Keith down and sharpened his skills. He dubbed it "aggressive meditation." Like a double edged sword, nothing soothed the bloodlust that sang in his veins quite like a fight.

 

Unfortunately, it also got him into constant trouble. Not being able to deal with his emotions any other way was in fact a handicap he'd rather do without. But he could only concentrate on one thing at a time. Right. Patience yields focus.

 

How the quiznak was patience supposed to help them find Lance?

 

_"...wake up…"_

 

Not helping.

 

Shiro slid forward and kicked out with his legs, sweeping Keith's legs right out from under him. It did do a pretty good job of waking him up though. He'd have to remember to award phantom Lance points for the prediction later. In the meantime he landed cat-like and backflipped just out of reach as Shiro rolled up into a forward swing. Keith fully expected him to follow through with the move, but instead the arm snapped back out at the elbow and connected with Keith's ribs, making him curl reflexively around the shocking reminder of how his last fight had gone. Shiro stopped suddenly and straightened, hands falling to his sides. Keith narrowed his eyes from his crouch.

 

"What are you doing? C'mon, I can still go." he wheezed and forced himself to stand, arms held out defiant of the ache radiating from his side.

 

Shiro shook his head. Quiznak.

 

"No, Keith. I think there's something you're not telling me." Shiro stepped forward casually, but something in his stance that made Keith eye him warily, unsure how to proceed with that information. He barely told anyone anything anyways, if he thought it was about what happened back on the bridge he had another thing c...oh no, he flinched away but not fast enough to stop Shiro from snagging the corner of the black undershirt and revealing the mottled bruise which spread over the right side of Keith's ribs. He winced.

 

There goes his extra training secret. And to think he'd gone through all the trouble of bribing Pidge with being the test dummy for a new bayard upgrade she was tinkering with when she'd found out that one time.

 

He looked up wide eyed, ready to receive what was surely going to be an angry lecture about safety protocols, but Shiro surprised him with a weary look of understanding.

 

"When were you going to tell me? You know you can always talk to me." _When you don't know what to do about what you're feeling, weak and afraid of never being good enough_ Keith heard through his words. They glowed behind his eyes like neon signs in the desert over run down gas stations that made his heart feel heavy with shame. He pulled one hand over his eyes and the scent of refuse and grease filling his senses even as he felt Shiro's eyes sweeping across his face for a reaction. But Keith would not meet them, he couldn't, and simply clenched his aching fists. 

 

"What am I supposed to tell you, huh?!" he whispered, his tone rising with each word rolling out of his mouth like a tide, "That I'm tired of doing this? That maybe I'm better off on my own? I don't even know how to fix anything!" He slapped Shiro's hand away from his shirt, but in doing so he triggered a wave of dizziness that sent him stumbling a step backwards. When he looked up Shiro still had his hand held out from where he'd been rebuked. He'd been ready to catch Keith but had stopped himself doing so, his eyes tight with some emotion Keith was incapable of deciphering. This wasn't working the way it was supposed to, again. Why couldn't he calm down? A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over him as his chest heaved, the castle's artificial gravity seemingly turned up to eleven and his muscles were made out of paper. Only his own frustration was keeping him upright, like wire wrapped around his bones.

 

He didn't expect Shiro to walk forward and wrap him up in his arms. Keith stiffened at the contact for a moment. Slowly reaching up, he twisted his hands into the fabric of Shiro's uniform and pushed his face into dip of his shoulder and let a millimeter of tension out with a reluctant breath.

 

Keith refused to cry. No matter how much his eyes burned.

 

"I'm sorry I wasn't there." Shiro muttered into his hair, one hand clasped protectively around the back of the smaller paladin's neck, the other held firmly around his back.

 

He closed his eyes against the flames.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

"Lance here. I've entered the coordinates. Standing by."

 

"Excellent. Be sure that you check in with the command tower before landing." Her voice was slightly distracted over the coms, her eyes kept flicking to her left as her hand moved over the console.

 

He cracked her a reassuringly trademark smile, "Allura, I've got this. Try not to miss me too much, 'kay babe?"

 

Allura's gaze was soft, but hardened slightly around the edges, "Lance, please. Just get the information and get back as quickly as you can. No field trips and certainly no flirting with the local populace. We cannot afford any delays. Do I make myself clear?"

 

Lance sighed and ducked his head apologetically, "Yes ma'am." The search for Lotor must be taking it's toll on Allura. Or maybe it was just Lance himself, but he didn't want to think about that. Working the teludav took incredible focus and energy, Lance still worried if she was eating and sleeping enough for whatever was healthy for an Altean. Coran took regular rest cycles of a couple varga, though Allura was using far more of her energy in their efforts to build the coalition. He'd just chalk her remarks up to whatever Alteans considered grumpiness.

 

If anyone could sleep standing up, however, Lance would place all his chips on the princess. Hands down.

 

She gave him a soft nod as she spoke. "Good luck." and with that the video feed blinked out.

 

Nerves swirled in his stomach like the gate that yawned before him, sudden and wide. He swallowed the lump in his throat and pushed the thrusters forward a little harder than necessary, listening as the entrance closed with a snap as soon as his lion's tail cleared the field. A shiver ran through him as the wormhole tugged Red along, he shook it off and focused on flying straight. Ever since their encounter with Zarkon Lance dreaded traveling via wormhole. His eyes subconsciously checked the sides to make sure they weren't turning that tainted purple hue of the witch's magic, pulling them all apart as easily as tearing into a fresh garlic knot. Oh man now all he could think of was a sweet sunlit memory of his mama baking the savory loafs for dinner on a school night. Lance clung to it hungrily. Man he could sure go for one of those right now. His stomach practically rumbling at the mere thought.

 

Or...wait...no that definitely wasn't coming from him, a low vibration rattling his elbows against the arm rests. Another growl resonated through his bones and Red transferred a brief feeling of unease into his mind. Lance sighed.

 

"I know girl. I don't like this either. Gotta go fast, right?" Red rumbled disapprovingly. Spoilsport. Blue would have totally had his back on that one. He missed her, but Lance had a feeling that admitting that to his current flight partner right now would not go over well. Still, as much as he missed Blue, he'd felt a growing connection to Red as the days passed. Her cockpit was always warm, like a gentle embrace that would send sparks flying through his skin the moment a battle would begin. She reminded him of Keith. Sometimes while piloting sense memories would wash over him in the blink of an eye, like the feeling of hot ashes washing over his arms or the smell of chili peppers and leather. It was these times that he slowed in the heat of combat and instinctively looked for the glowing war path of the black lion, Red purring proudly in his mind at the sight of Keith putting on a burst of speed to evade an attack. Maybe Red missed Keith too.

 

"Hey Red? Has Keith ever...y'know...mentioned me at all?"

 

Silence.

 

 Lance let out a long sigh.

 

Like lion like pilot.

 

He didn't get the luxury of mulling over that train of thought very long.

 

The next thing Lance knew a dozen blasts blacked out his viewscreen and Red lurched heavily to one side, roaring in pain and surprise. He grunted as another hit jolted him and his helmet cracked against the side of the headrest. Alarms began to blare in Lance's ears. Structural integrity warnings popped up on his damage monitor _everywhere_. The palpable sound of screeching metal almost as loud as his heart drumming against his ribcage. He looked around wildly, trying to pinpoint the angle of attack.

 

What the quiznak?!??!  
 

 

Whatever it was, it had pushed them so far Red's paws were skimming along the bottom edges of the wormhole. He pulled them up with a jerk of the controls and she wobbled slightly. Not now. Not again. He could see the exit creeping towards him. Just half a dobash and he'd be out and he could let the team know that he was under attack.

 

But, by what? The integrity monitor only showed sections of plating weakening as if they were being eroded by some kind of acid, though the constant skittering and heavy clunks above didn't add up. The highest concentration were slowly centering around his lion's head. That wasn't good. He couldn't see his attackers anywhere on the viewscreen and it wasn't like there were external cameras mounted on the outside of…

 

Aha! The idea struck him just as yet another collision sent Red rocking dangerously close to the wall of energy. Her reactions to his commands were getting more and more sluggish with every tick. There was no time to waste. Clutching the controls desperately, Lance closed his eyes and reached out with his mind as he'd done countless times before. Suddenly he could hear Red whispering faintly in his ears, fierce and angry and…scared? 

 

**_There are many. They are eating me. Help. Attack now._ **

 

 _"How? I can't fight what I can't see. I need your sight. Please."_ Lance whispered back, fear licking at the end of his words. Soon after, a familiar electric tingle ran down his scalp, snapping a tiny bit next to his ear almost in warning. When he opened his eyes he saw…

 

Blinding pain. 

 

He ground his hands into his right eye and screamed. Something had torn out his eye, Lance was sure of it. Burning fire flowed from where it should be in waves that coursed down his spine. He hands were strangely dry. where was all the blood? He grimaced and fought through the phantom pain tugging his focus away incessantly. This…this was not his eye. With a horrible sinking feeling he realized that something had chewed it out of Red's face. Luckily the left one was still intact, though half of his vision was blocked by squirming bodies. He focused on that and breathed shallowly through his mouth. Lance turned the lion's head to one side and saw…

 

Hundreds of them. They had long, greenish white and thickly plated yet flexible bodies ending in three rear facing talons that mercilessly anchored them to their prey. The front half held nothing but a large, white, gaping mouth full of black bladed teeth that glowed faintly with some kind of red energy, four hinged pincers stabilizing its face as the creatures tore and ripped at Red's helpless body. Lance simply watched as they tore through anything in front of them in their frenzy like butter, even each other. His pupils shrank as he realized what they were after. The quintessence. He could see it glowing within their slowly engorging bodies. There was no way he was going to get them all off without hurting Red.

 

It was either that or die anyways.

 

One hand still clutching his face as the aftershocks of the connection making his head feel like it was being split open, he screamed and flung one control forward. Red roared and swung her tail around, took aim at the back of her shoulders, and _fired_.

 

The explosion jolted Lance forward with enough force to shatter the glass of his helmet on the console in front of him. He tore off the ruined headwear and wiped blood off his face. That ought to have gotten rid of most of them. He felt along his forehead for the cut. _Gracias a Dios_ it wasn't that deep he thought darkly as he opened his sight again and checked behind him.

 

The creatures were still there, writhing in agony as the blast had burned swaths through their midst, and yet even bodiless mouths remained stubbornly attached to whatever surface they could find, melting away. Quiznak, he would have to fire again.

 

He pulled back for another shot. The gate loomed up before him now as he kept Red's one good eye open. But before he could shoot a dissonant shrieking made him look back once more.

 

They were...singing? If it could even be called that. The creatures were looking upwards as one, opening their jaws in a high pitched undulation that sounded...somehow joyful. The hell? Maybe he was just imagining things. But when he followed their gaze he knew this was a nightmare he desperately wished he could wake up from. 

 

A giant black pincer descended from above, connected to a mouth so wide and black it could have easily swallowed the castle of lions whole. Lance looked on in terror as it approached at an alarming speed.

 

Something that big had no business moving that fast.

 

He opened the throttle, pushing the last of his energy into the action, willing Red to outpace the beast before it swallowed them whole. She gave a strained lurch and fired every booster at once. Lance felt the force of their acceleration glue him into the back of his seat. It took all of his strength just to hold his head up to look up one last time.

 

Right before the tip of one massive tooth crashed directly into the top of his head. He screamed as his hands flew up as he dragged his head down and away from the impact, controls spinning wildly. The tooth ripped free, the sudden vacuum of pain disorienting him for a moment before an actual vacuum of space tore at his suit, tearing Lance out of his seat even as his lion was sent hurtling in the wrong direction.

 

Lance barely felt Red slamming into the temporal wall over the sound of his skull cracking against the ceiling, leaving him woozy as he rag-dolled back onto the pilot's chair. He clung to it fervently and stretched out his leg towards the controls panel. Come on, come on. He could feel his lungs shrinking in the absence of normal air pressure. His lion was rocking now, buffeted by the temporal energies whipping around outside whisking them into the depths of unknown space. Timing one last kick as the cabin rolled to the right he felt his foot connect and the console plipped in response, an emergency particle barrier sealing off the air leak and restoring environmental controls. Lance sucked in a greedy breath and tried to orient himself.

 

Everything was happening so fast. What the actual quiznak was going on? Did he make it through the gate? He had to contact the team. How could everything have gone so wrong so quickly? What even were those things? Lance had so many questions and zero answers he was incapable of doing anything but pushing his face into his hands. Was he panicking? He definitely felt like he was panicking. What was he supposed to do? The room felt too small, he needed to get out. How long could he hold his breath in space?  No, no that would never work. What would Keith do? This was not a training simulation, this was not a battle with his team waiting to cover his mistakes. These were not simple Galra soldiers but some kind of cosmic quintessence sucking swarm. At least he was pretty sure he'd left them behind in the wormhole, the sounds of chittering having been replaced by the creaks and groans of his fractured lion speeding through space. How was he even going to be able to fix this? Would he even be able to? A loud sound drew him from his miniature breakdown and back to reality.

 

The main console was beeping madly. It looked as though it was about to explode any minute as bolts of electricity crackled and snapped over the surface. Oh no, no don't. That couldn't happen to a lion's system, right? Lance closed his eyes and wished he knew more about tech stuff now more than he ever did before. All he could do was claw his way back into the seat and reached for the emergency alert systems keypad. He had to get help. 

 

Which is exactly when arcs of overloaded energy split the main display in two, exploding glass and metal in every direction.

 

Lance curled into a ball helplessly and pulled his arms over his face.

 

\----------------

 

 

"Guys! Get up here now!"

 

Pidge's nasally voice echoed excitedly above where Shiro and Keith were sitting, soberly drinking hot chocolate at the mess hall table. Her tone pierced the calm Keith had just barely been able to collect, but it didn't matter if that meant she'd been able to locate Red.

 

He swallowed his feelings and felt a tendril of hope rise to the surface.

 

Shiro looked up at him, setting his cocoa down determinedly.

 

"Let's go."

 

 

A couple dobashes later they joined their teammates all gathered around Pidge's glowing workstation. Her fingers flew over her laptop that was plugged into the seat console, muttering formulaic gibberish under her breath. Hunk stood at Coran's station, his fingers drumming against the metal nervously. Coran and Allura were clustered around the green paladin, arms crossed, but their expressions were hopeful and focused.

 

Shiro moved over to see what Pidge was doing too. Keith hovered next to Hunk and watched the circular display on the console. "So…what's going on?"

 

Hunk took a deep breath. He looked much better than before their…altercation. A white bandage had been applied just above Hunk's eye, which was still turning into quite the canvas. Whatever, Keith had zero regrets. "Do you remember back when we were looking for Lotor?"

 

"I thought we we're still looking for Lotor."

 

Hunk sighed and plastered a hand over his eyes. Ditto. "Well yeah, we are. I was more asking about back when he stole the comet Pidge and I used to track him down with. Y'know, using the amplified SA Fraunhofer algorithm?"

 

Keith narrowed his eyes, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

 

"C'mon man. Okay look, it was the system we rigged up to track the comet that led us to Lotor when we were basically trying to find a needle in a haystack." 

 

Okay, Keith could follow that logic. He gave a nod in Hunk's direction for him to continue.

 

The drumming fingers increased in frequency. "So we just set it up again only this time we've switched the target to be Voltron instead of the comet, specifically the red lion. I mean, they're the same frequencies essentially. The only major difference only being a matter of switching the pol…" Keith held up a hand to cut him off. There was no way he was able to process that much talking right now.

 

"I got it. So when are you going to get this thing running?"

 

"Right now. Hit it Hunk." Pidge warbled from behind them. Hunk grinned and punched the screen. It lit up immediately with information. The area they were in showed with multiple targets reading as their individual lions, color coded of course, as well as pieces of the castle itself. That was interesting. Keith's attention was ripped away, however, by a particularly vicious bout of typing come from Pidge's seat and he saw a command run through the bottom. The circle moved and a small red triangle blipped on screen, sudden and bright.

 

And it was moving. Fast.

 

"Is that…Lance?" Keith wondered aloud. It was heading away from them into an unknown quadrant. Where was he going? Unless he'd been captured.

 

He really didn't want to go down that line of thinking if he had.

 

Hunk jumped into his chair and transferred the tracking screen over. After a moment, he exchanged a cloaked look with Pidge from across the room.

 

"Well, I've got good news and bad news."

 

Shiro piped up, "Give us the good news Hunk, we could all use some right now."

 

Hunk nodded and scratched the back of his head absently. "Alright, well the good news is that there appear to be no Galran fleets in the sector this signal is coming from. Plus it's heading towards a planet so if he's on the run or something he'll have a place to hide and regroup before we can get there."

 

Keith breathed a sigh of relief. At least he could cross off that worry off his bucket list.

 

"Tell us the bad news Hunk." Allura said firmly.

 

"Okay, well…" 

 

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of Keith's stomach.

 

Pidge blew her nose pointedly before she continued for him. "The signal is smaller than it should be compared to those of our own lions. It's flight pattern is erratic, and we have no idea if Lance is even still aboard. For all we know Red could be severely damaged or missing major systems and might not even be able to land safely." Her fingers slowed as she trailed off, hesitating over the keys as the signal blipped onwards.

 

"We must go there immediately." Allura's commanding voice cutting through their worried silence. She stepped up onto the control platform and summoned the teludav. "We will wormhole into the nebula adjacent to the planet  and conduct our rescue mission from there. It should only take about two varga to make the journey from here. Keith, Hunk. You will fly down in your lions and recover the red lion and Lance as soon as we arrive. Shiro. Pidge. I want you to work on amplifying that signal and see if we can't get a better reading, also scan for any Galra fleets that might be moving in. Coran…"

 

The mustachioed adviser picked up his head.

 

"Prepare a healing pod."

 

"I'll have it shined up to peak performance faster than a snick can…well….I'm on it!" Coran threw a colorful salute and strode from the bridge.

 

Keith turn to watch him go, his gaze falling habitually on Shiro. For as long as Keith had known his savior from the hell that was his life before he'd know him, he developed a fifth sense for when the older paladin was in pain. Maybe it was just from all the altruism that had rubbed off on him over the years, but he'd come to consider Shiro a true part of his family now. He just couldn't bring himself to tell the man himself, though he would be a liar if he thought it wasn't just because he was waiting for Shiro to slip up somehow. Prove the dark thoughts lurking from the lost years of his foster childhood that trust was for the weak ones. The ones that never found their way out.

 

It was just...Shiro just looked so determined. Like nothing would stand in his way of finding Lance.

 

He'd almost let him die once already. Keith wouldn't let it happen again.

 

Hunk walked up next to him and laid a large yet gentle hand on his shoulder. "Keith…"

 

He shrugged it off and made for the elevator.

 

_"....tell everyone..."_

 

He didn't need to be told twice.

 

 

\---------------------------------------------------------

 

 

The world was shattering around him. Where was he? It was dark. So dark. His heart was beating way too fast.

 

He couldn't breath.

 

No no no, not again. His hands flew to his mouth, already open, a faint gasping echoing in his ears. Arms wrapped around him and pulled him deeper into the darkness. Sweat trickled down his face, his arms prickling with needles as his hands fell to scrabble at the things crawling over him. Thousands of tiny claws reached his abdomen scraping and peeling away his skin in thin strips before burying themselves in his organs greedily. Yet, when he went to feebly push them away...

 

They disappeared.

 

Lance's eyes snapped open. Nothing moved in the cramped compartment except for his own heaving chest. He pulled his hands up and lightly touched the sodden lump strapped around his torso. His fingers came away damp and clammy. He shivered, more from fear than the cold. That couldn't be a good sign. How was he supposed to do this when he could barely lift his head. He was so tired, at least keeping his breath steady and shallow becoming easier now that knew that he was alone.

 

Though that was hardly a comforting thought.

 

Currents of pain washed over his skin as he  slowly pushed himself to sitting, though none of it compared to the throbbing that started up in his left leg, complaining loudly at being jostled. Pushing through the pain was worth it in the end, as he found breathing upright a bit better without the pressure on his lungs, never mind the swelling beginning to extend past his ribcage. He took a moment to get his breathing under control, focusing on the sharpness of the cold air entering his lungs, soothing the fire that was sloshing around inside them still. It was fortunate this planet had a breathable atmosphere, even if the air tasted somewhat metallic. Lance wondered what kind of planet it was, whether it had seasons like Earth, or if it were just full of more things waiting to kill him. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about it.

 

His thoughts ended up wandering anyways, they always did. He thought of how the team would be doing. They must have realized he was way past his allotted mission time for retrieval. He cringed. Hunk must be worried sick. The big lunk was working on a way to track Red down, with Pidge's help too of course. She'd been so sick when he left, he hoped she was resting enough. The castle had found them all pretty quickly after the wormhole had scattered them all to different parts of space. It would just be a matter of time.

 

~~_just a matter of time_ ~~

 

Reaching down, he slowly unwrapped the soaked dressing around his left leg, casting them away into the corner with the rest of the rags. Looking down, he noticed it looked like something large and blunt had sledgehammered it. The pulped and bruised flesh extending the entire length and creeping up a bit past his knee. When had that happened? He was so dizzy, bits and pieces of the crash slipping through his grasp as he tried his best to recall. Veronica's voice drifted through his ears, reading him a passage from her textbook on emergency medicine. Confusion and vertigo, head trauma. Possible concussion. Right. Going to sleep had not been the best decision. It was lucky he'd woken up at all, but he had badly needed a respite from the all-encompassing. A cool breeze swept over his exposed leg and it pulsed, reminding him he had more important things to tend to. Focus, Lance.

 

He could do this. Breathe.

 

The swelling alone looked like it had stemmed the bleeding somewhat, but Lance knew without a doubt that at least one if not both bones were broken. And that meant he'd need to re-set them before bandaging it up, possibly cut into it again to access the break since he didn't have proper medical imaging so he could see what he was…

 

His stomach churned violently, bile rising up his throat despite the lack of anything his stomach could give. He forced himself to swallow it down.

 

Well it was deal with it now and maybe walk again, or leave it alone and risk infection and possibly loosing the entire limb. He hung his head and let out a wet cough. What good would he be then without a leg? Allura would probably pity him, a sad excuse for a paladin. He couldn't bear to think of that. Like he was much use to the team as it was. More and more he'd been feeling left out of group maneuvers, a tacked on accessory of a more capable unit. He always tried to not let himself fall down that hole, he really did, even as it's shadow followed him everywhere. Into the mess hall, down the tube that led to his lion, even beneath his pillow where in the middle of the night he would wake up dripping with fear from the nightmares that had haunted him even back at the garrison. It happened more times than Lance would like to admit, which is why he'd gone to Keith's room that one time to try and tell him the truth. What he'd ended up with was just the admission that he was weak, which of course was true, but he hadn't expected Keith to reassuringly try and convince him that he wasn't. That he was a valued member of the team and that he was thinking too much. Maybe he was, but the fact that Keith had said such a thing made Lance's stomach begin to turn again. Sure he smiled when Keith had told him to leave the math the Pidge, but Lance had a sneaking suspicion the former red paladin was just being nice to him because it's what Shiro would have done. He was just being a good leader.

 

It couldn't mean Keith didn't actually hate him anymore...could it?

 

  ~~ _they only put up with you because they're stuck with you_~~

 

Whatever. He could sort that out once he was safely back aboard the castle. Hopefully.

 

Lance had never seen the healing pods used to treat something this severe, but he was pretty sure they couldn't bring dead flesh back to life let alone people. If he…didn't go down that train of thought then everything would be fine. They were coming to rescue him. They had to be. Just a couple more hours and this would all just be a bad dream.

 

In the meantime, he needed to fix this as best he could. Lightly gripping his leg just above the knee he straightened the limb before he grabbing the med kit next to him, wincing from a dozens of sharp pains as he leaned forward to inspect the wound.

 

The front of his lower leg was a mess of raw, ballooning flesh split open from the sheer force of impact, a long concave groove running across the bone which was poking up in two places like a drawn bridge. Lance grimaced, he'd have to push those bones back down and stabilize them with something. The smell of blood was nauseating, his throat burning with acid even as he devised a makeshift face mask with a strip of torn blanket. It helped a little, though he could still taste blood with every breath. A tube of pain relief medicine alarmingly did nothing, so he downed a second, which finally brought the pounding in his head to a monotone buzz.

 

His hand was surprisingly sturdy when he picked up the Altean scalpel, even though in his mind Lance was very much not. Breathing shallowly through his nose, he gripped the sides of the wound with one hand, the skin feverish to the touch but blessedly less sensitive than it was. Now for the hard part. He just had to make a cut into the angry flesh between the broken pieces so he could push them back in, then brace it with something so the cut stayed shut and wrap it up again. Nothing to it. There were plenty of metal strips strewn about from the obliterated consoles that had flown back from the crash. He nudged a couple of the smoother ones about the right length closer to either side of his leg before resting the blade on a torn tendon stuck fast to where he needed to cut. Lance breathed in and pushed down.

 

A dry heave threatened his already tentative grip, and he had to stop and force himself to contain it, even as the convulsion ground his ribs together and renew the fire constantly burning in his chest. Keeping his eyes focused on the incision, he drew the scalpel down and up as slowly as he could, even as his mind was screaming at him to hurry up this was wrong, so wrong , get it over with, stop, stop, stop. He couldn't stop now. After what felt like hours Lance set the bloodied scalpel down, thinking fuzzily that he maybe should have used some kind of sterilization as Veronica was always chiding him about whenever he got a scrape or cut as a kid and he just slapped a band-aid over it and called it good. Whatever, he was too tired to care. The buzzing in his head was so _distracting_.

 

Using his thumb and forefinger, he touched the tips of the bone poking through the cut, the texture so fundamentally _wrong_ feeling he almost flinched away instinctively. Before he could dwell on it he pulled the bones together and down until he couldn't see their pale whiteness, pushing through the pain that darkened the edges of his vision. He felt the bones touch and his ribs ached in sympathy, but at least it was straight now, maybe. He clamped one hand over the cut, the other held over his mouth to stop the horrible noises he was making. Slowly, he pried that one away from his face and picked up one of the smoother bars of metal scrap he'd dragged over earlier and rested it against the outside of his leg. Finding another roughly the same size was however, a different story. He ended up with one average sized bar bracing one side, and a giant hunk of plating that went almost halfway up his thigh on the other. At least it was smooth and stable, he thought brightly as he re-wrapped the leg with the previously gel soaked bandages, placing a small and flat strip quickly on top of the cut halfway through. Tears relentlessly poured down his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of something other than the bone crushing pain.

 

Oh that was a good one. The laughter bubbled up his throat and he leaned over to one side to expel it onto the floor and not his cracking sexy shins. He really wished the world would stop spinning so much. It could give a person ideas.

 

"Hey Red." he wheezed softly. When had his voice gotten so gravely? Must be his manly good looks. "What do you say to a one legged hitchhiker?"

 

A faint creak replied amicably.

 

"Hop in!"

 

He was so not okay.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Keith, you okay buddy?"

 

The planet loomed before them, little more than a greyish blue mass of uninteresting rock. Hunk flew just ahead of Keith, the yellow lion acting like a beacon in the dim light filtered through the sky as they broke cloud cover. He would admit, the black lion seemed to have sensed Keith's urgency if his struggle to reign her in to stay with Hunk said anything about it. If he was being honest with himself, he wanted nothing more than to race ahead to the tiny red mark on their navigational screens. Not knowing anything was worse than having to choose from endless possibilities.

 

Keith sighed and closed his eyes briefly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Can we go a little faster?"

 

He could hear Hunk huff a breath of his own. "Would if I could buddy. Old yellow here wasn't exactly built for speed, y'know? But…we should be there in less than five dobashes. Hang tight bud."

 

Would if he could, Keith echoed bitterly in his head and gripped his controls just a little bit tighter with already bruised knuckles.

 

They found him, hadn't they? Lance had to be there. 

 

For the rest of the ride he watched the red triangle blip closer onscreen. It was far more useful than the repetitive landscape whizzing past anyhow. They were almost on top of it now. He cleared a rock formation and saw the yellow lion landed atop a small ridge just ahead. Keith's coms crackled to life.

 

"Wait…this can't be right."

 

That was not something he was hoping to hear.

 

Keith landed his lion next to Hunk's, jumping out and sliding down the slope to stand next to the speechless yellow paladin in front of what looked like a mangled piece of metal about the size of a small car jammed into the ground. Allura's voice suddenly cut through the static that had filled both of their ears.

 

 _  
_ "Keith. Hunk. Come in. What did you find?"

 

It was red, barely. Multiple punctures dotted the sides along with long, jagged scratches that made Keith's chest ache uncomfortably. He heard Hunk swallow thickly next to him as they surveyed the wreckage dotting the crater center. There was nearly enough for half a lion. He had to clench his hands to keep them from shaking. They moved through the wreckage, more twisted hunks of metal littering the ground. He could swear that one of them looked like it could have been a piece of Red's ear. Lance had definitely been attacked.

 

But by what?

 

"Keith…look."

 

Beside a long, crooked piece of metal standing embedded firmly into the rock lay half of a chest plate so smeared with blood the blue pattern beneath was tinged a dark purple. Keith watched as Hunk stumbled forward to pick it up, his fingers gripping it lightly as though it might shatter on contact. The very air seemed too still, like the vacuum after an unexpected explosion. 

 

_".…I'm sorry."_

 

Not now. Please. Keith sunk to his knees, digging his fists into the dirt.  All he could hear was those words continuing to echo inside his head. They pinged off the walls of his subconscious and leaked out of his ringing ears, already causing a pounding pressure to build between his eyes.

 

 

He felt the fire rise.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the lateness of this chapter. Been real busy as of late with my full time job, but I have set deadlines for this fic of roughly a chapter a month, maybe sooner if I can get my butt in gear. To make up for it this one was a bit longer than usual, yee! We finally get to see how Lance crashed on...wherever he is. ;) I was inspired by a particular episode of Voyager where the ship is overrun by these space creatures that start feeding off the computer gel packs. So I figured there could be a species evolved to feed of quintessence since wormholes are opened using it. In the meantime, our dear boy may seem more stable physically, but mentally? We may have a situation developing. Hang tight guys. I'll be getting into the more mental meat of our paladins and what's going on with all these voices. Who do you think will figure it out first? 
> 
> Also thank you for your comments! Keeps me going strong. I check often. Shout-out to Fynncannot, lanceisblue, and bravechicken for your thoughts. *~*


	4. Eye

The wind picked feebly at Lance's hoodie from where he sat crouched on a log near the camp poking a stick into the ground over and over, lost in the swirls and currents he created with grand flourishes much to the amusement of his cousin Adi. She giggled at his best impression of a humpback whale, bringing his arms up and slapping them down into the dirt spraying a shrieking Adi with dust and leaves. Lance beamed as she kicked her legs sending clouds of her own in his direction. He retaliated by leaping up and began to spin like the ninjas he spent far too many Saturday afternoon watching reruns of, prerecorded by mama on their beat up old VHS. But instead of the desired tornado effect he'd been hoping for his foot caught on a root and sent him wind milling backwards. 

Just as he was sure he was about to eat it, strong hands clamped around his wrist and yanked him back to standing. The sisterly disapproval in Veronica's eyes was strong this time, and he couldn't help but wince even though her lips were drawn into a warm smile. 

"Watch your step next time little conejito." she chided, stepping lightly around the both of them and towards the dying campfire they'd lit to toast their celebratory luncheon upon reaching the traditional Mcclain family campsite for the evening. Lance had through these woods a hundred times and he had yet to see a more perfect grove of trees circling a flat and blissfully stone-free ground to which their tents were snugly staked. 

The best part was the hidden path leading through the brush to a private beach just a five minute walk away, though it was more like a one minute sprint for Lance each time they headed down for a respite from the heat. His second favorite part was the fire pit they'd built in the heart of the camp when they first found the place a few years back. He'd even helped mama and Marco carry the stones to build it, though he'd only been able to lift the smaller ones that fit like jigsaw pieces between the more massive hunks nearly half his size. He'd sulked about it even after a botched attempt to free one the size of his head from the soil that had nearly taken his toes off in the process before Rosita had alerted his mama who had put an end to it just in time. Dios she had been so angry. Even after a stern lecture about not biting off more than he could chew she had wrapped him up in her arms and told him that his time would come which had only made him shake his head against her shoulder and sob harder. She taught him then how even the smallest stones could hold up the biggest boulders if they were in the right place. At that Lance had lifted his head, eyes bright, and gathered so many pebbles and slivers of rock that they had enough to build long ray designs around the pit, like a seat fit for a goddess of light. 

Lance blinked back the tear before anyone noticed and waved back at Veronica's retreating form so enthusiastically he was in danger of tipping over again. "Don't worry mi hermana! I'll be careful!" Adi's now slightly stifled giggles started up again behind him and Lance grinned. 

"Told ya my sis was cool." he bragged as he plopped back down beside her and tipped his head back. "One day she's gonna be up there you know." 

Adi gasped loudly, sending a very startled Lance backwards off the log and onto the ground with a thud.

"Oh Lance! How long does she have?" 

"What?! No! I uh…" Lance scrambled back onto the log and folded his arms self consciously. "She's going to go on like, space missions and stuff! She's perfectly alright! There's nothi…" he glanced up at her and narrowed his eyes as Adi's glinted mischievously from behind her hands held up before her in mock horror. 

"You're teasing me, aren't you?" 

His answer was an eye roll and a grin. 

"It's too much fun! Besides, you love it." she tossed her hair sassily and looked over at lively flames Veronica had managed to coax out of the dying fire as dusk fell fast. 

Lance quirked on side of his mouth into a small smile but kept his teeth clenched. 

This was so not going according to plan. 

Before his brooding had a chance to build up steam he heard a faint giggle from behind them. 

"He's such a chico tonto." 

"No wonder he's never had a girlfriend." 

Lance froze, staring at the ground wide eyed. Their voices may not have been much more than a whisper but they were plenty loud enough to carry across the small distance from the tree line. Almost as if they wanted to be heard. 

"Hey Adi! We're back." came a clear voice and the sound of footsteps coming towards them. 

Movement out of the corner of his eye told him Adi was waving to the classmates she'd invited along on their weekend outing. It was only a couple friends from school, she'd said. They had been nice enough on the ride to the trail head, though Lance had mostly ignored them in favor of riding shotgun with Marco and belting out pop tunes with the windows down. But still…

Why would they say something like that? 

Two pairs of footsteps thumped closer behind him. 

"Grace! Rosi! How was the water?" Adi chirped. 

He wasn't going to wait around to find out. He couldn't. 

Because he already knew exactly why. 

Lance bolted from the clearing like a marlin racing through a darkening sea. Plunging heedless into the undergrowth of the forest and away from the shouts that followed him in. 

Branches and long leaves scratched at his face as he ran. He held his hands out before him to keep the worst of them out of his eyes, dead twigs snapping against them as he pushed deeper into the woods. The pain was nothing compared to the aching in his chest. It felt hot, like his heart was about to explode from the weight of his own failures. He always managed to say the wrong thing, his attempts at making others happy turning into endless teasing that Lance had taken to covering it up behind a megawatt smile and plenty of bravado to ease the pressure. Yet each time he was reminded of how others thought of him was just another stone in the bucket dragging him down into the inescapable depths, no matter how hard he swam. 

His cheeks were beginning to sting from the salt of his tears so he stopped next to an old banyan tree to wipe them clean, staining the bottom of his navy tank-top a deep lilac. Taking a shuddering breath, he slipped between the roots and nestled in a natural hollow tucked away from the direction of the camp. Night was falling fast and Lance hugged his arms around his bare knees, pressing his forehead to them with hiccupping sobs and wished with all his heart that he could be someone other than Lance, the stupid boy from Cuba who couldn't do anything right. 

He stayed there until his cheeks began to stick to his arms, but Lance didn't move a muscle. The forest had become submerged in the darkness, and as his sobs began to slow the sounds of animals beginning to move through the trees filled the space between them. 

Which also happened to be when Lance heard the scream and the sick thud that followed. 

A scream that sounded far too much like Veronica. 

He ripped his face from his knees and scrambled out from between the roots. A soft whine of pain came from his left and he rushed towards it, nearly stumbling into the sudden dip into the earth that had been hidden behind a half curtain of vines to which he clung to keep from falling. 

A few feet below lay Veronica beside a sharp edge of stone the cut across the ground. She was curled on her side, blood staining the white sleeves of her shirt as she clutched one leg to her chest and breathed heavily with pain. 

Pain that Lance had put her in. Because she'd come looking for him when he'd run off because his emotions had gotten the better of him. He'd only been feeling sorry for himself and Veronica was hurt now because of it. 

It was all his fault. 

He clenched his fists and turned back towards the camp, feet flying faster than when he'd fled from those hurtful words that chased him everywhere he went. He had to try and make it right, but that didn't stop the shame that burned in his throat and his eyes. 

Fresh tears set his cheeks stinging anew as he ran. 

He made no effort to wipe them away. 

But as he ran they suddenly changed course, beginning to pour into his mouth at first in a steady trickle that quickly turned into a torrent sending him crashing to his knees as he choked and gasped for breath. 

No. None of this was real. His hands fell away from his throat and latched themselves around his head even as his throat continued spasming around the intruding liquid that was now freezing into spikes, imbedding themselves into his neck. Blood tinged the water that already caused Lance to splutter violently as his lungs heaved attempting to expel the vile mixture. The darkness was growing and his eyes stained in their sockets around it. The pounding of his own pulse in his ears was agony but the pressure inside his throat was stronger and he fell to his knees, trying to dig a hand into the dirt to ground himself against the vertigo. It fell through instead. 

 

Lance awoke coughing and shaking in the dusky orange haze of the supply room, eyes still searching for the path back to camp. He spit a gob of congealed blood off to one side and noted weakly that there was still an acrid smelling puddle cooling next to him judging by the smell. That alone was making his stomach gurgle dangerously as he slowly inched his way to sitting propped against the rear bench, still trying to slow his breathing so his chest could stop cramping up with the effort. He groaned as the movement sent his leg pulsing painfully in waves he could feel all the way up his spine. It left his exhausted, but there was little he could do about it at the moment. Maybe he should give it a name. Something like those old soaps his mama used to watch, maybe that heartbreaker she always scolded the tv set over, Alejandro. A rasping giggle squeezed from his throat that sent him into a coughing fit, resulting in more blood he needed to expel before he could take a proper breath. At least he'd woken back up after blacking out like that, which meant his head wound wasn't as severe as he thought. 

It was a thought to which he clung desperately. He needed to stay strong. Bits and pieces of the memory triggered a shudder he couldn't help, but he breathed slowly through his nose and did his best to fight off feeling of dread it had brought. His sister was okay, everyone back home was safe and that's all that mattered. Voltron would find out what happened and they would come for him. He repeated it over in his head like a mantra a few times until he had the strength to begin the process of untangling his arms from the blanket. Until they came, he just had to do his part and stay alive. 

Though he wasn't sure he could do that. Even he knew that it was a miracle he even survived the crash. 

He just hoped Red had too. 

Vision swimming, he turned to the drawer of rations and pulled out a block along with another bottle of water. Weakly bringing it to his cracked lips, he forced himself to take a small sip, throat clenching painfully through which he had to breath and struggle to relax against the renewed burning in his chest. After a few minutes he managed a few small sips along with a tiny rabbit nibble of the ration block. It was slow going, but he managed to finish both without another episode. 

As he reached over to replace the empty bottle something bumped against his hand. Upon fishing it out from between the other bottles, it turned out to be a small and suspicously familiar rectangular device. When he went to switch it on, a steady blue dot blipped on the screen in measured intervals. 

Fantastic. The ticker had made it out here with him too.

"Guess I can tick this one off my survival check list, huh Red?" Lance wheezed with a tired smile, poised to receive a moody response. 

None came.

"That's alright girl." Red didn't really approve of Lance's lightheartedness even at the best of times. He knew she secretly enjoyed it, given her mental nudges and purrs after she'd had a chance to properly grumble about how he needed to be more serious about fighting. "We can talk…about the finer points of appreciating comedy…when you're feeling better." he said breathily, his lungs still weren't used to being used so much. 

Lance shifted into a more comfortable position, careful not to jostle his leg too much even though slowly dragging across the floor brought fresh agony pulsing through the limb. As he folded the blanket over himself he made a fuzzy mental note to clean and check the limb for infection later, though he feverishly hoped the gel would stave off things like that. The last thing he needed was an infection or a clot finding it's way to his heart. He was pretty sure he was already running a fever from the blood still sitting in his lungs. 

Pulling the blanket a little tighter around him, Lance fitfully drifted off into oblivion. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Keith's eyes snapped open and he surged upwards only to find hands firmly pushing him back down. He reached up to push them away, but when his left hand met metal Keith stopped cold. 

"Relax. It's just me kid. Take a deep breath for me. Can you do that?" 

Shiro's face swam into view as his eyes adjusted to the bright lights, the black paladin's mouth was set in a firm line whereas the gathering of his brows spoke of his concern. Keith felt himself relaxing more and more under that familiar gaze. He usually got it after he'd been in a fight or ended up hurting himself in some botched attempt at running away when he ended up exploding. Shiro never failed to track him down. 

Keith took a deep breath, keeping his grip on the prosthetic holding him up like a lifeline. 

"I'm...I'm alright Shiro." a dull ached made it's presence known behind his eyes and he groaned, raising his right hand to kneed at his eyebrows. 

Shiro frowned and brought a hand up to nudge his kneading hand away. "You don't look alright"

"Wha…what happened?" 

Shiro removed his hand and took a step back, giving Keith a soft smile. "When you found a piece of Lance's armor you passed out. Hunk had to carry you back before going ahead with the retrieval." he held out a hand which Keith took gratefully and pulled himself to sitting. "Coran suggested that the planet's oxygen mixture may haven't agreed with your physiology, or something like that." Right, he vaguely recalled them prepping in record time once Allura had announced their arrival, they probably didn't even think to double check the atmospheric conditions for human physiology. Still, Keith knew that was probably all bullshit, and he shook his head which was none too fond of the movement. He winced at the renewed throbbing and his hand returned to it's ministrations. 

"How long was I out?" 

"About three varga." A faucet turned on and the sound of water echoed through the med room. A moment later a glass of water was being pushed into his other hand which Keith took gratefully. 

"So…" he began between sips. "did Hunk find anything yet?" 

Shiro crossed his arms pensively. "Not yet. He and Pidge have been working non-stop since we located it. The quintessence tracker hasn't picked up anything else in this quadrant either. So we're stuck waiting until they find out more about what happened to the Red Lion…" he looked down, a sad look flickering over his face. 

And if Lance even survived, Keith finished for him in his head. He gripped the cup a little tighter. 

"I've been thinking." Shiro began softly, "The castle is too obvious to be traveling around in this part of space, especially with so many Galran patrols. Maybe if Pidge or I went out on a scouting mission we could cover more ground and…" 

Keith whipped his head up and glared at the stupid white tufted paladin he'd come to consider his only family, who shut his mouth immediately under the intensity of the gaze. He couldn't bear the thought of loosing Shiro. It was bad enough Lance was missing. He lowered his glare into his lap slowly. If only he'd been paying more attention, if only he'd been there. Maybe none of this would be happening right now. It felt just like…

Coran's voice through the intercom cut through the tense silence like a knife. 

"Allura, paladins, we might have cracked the case concerning the state of the red lion. Report to the cargo hold immediately!" 

Shiro moved forward, "Are you alright to stand on your own? If not I can…" 

"I'm fine." Keith practically growled as he swung his legs over the edge of the table and hopped off. "You can stop worrying about me you know." The spots dancing in his vision as he took the first step told a different story. Still, he doggedly put one foot in front of the other and stomped out of the med bay. 

Shiro's voice floated softly behind him. "I know."

 

Down in the cargo hold, they found the rest of the team huddled around the large slab of red's hull they'd pulled from the crater. Coran was the first to spot them approach and he waved a hand encouragingly. 

"Over here lads!" The Altean's eyes were bright, but they weren't crinkled with mirth as usual. 

Keith's stomach swirled uncomfortably as he stepped closer towards the center of the hold. 

The debris had been cleaned up a bit to make Pidge's scans map easier. The puncture marks littering the surface still set Keith's nerves on edge. Whatever had done this had hit hard and fast. He set one hand on the edge of the nearest container for balance and tried to listen through the static in his head. 

"Pidge, what have you got?" Shiro's calm and collected tone belied the nerves he'd shown Keith just minutes before. 

Pidge's fingers never left the keyboard. "Do you want the good news first or the bad news?" 

Shiro paused in consideration. "Let's have the good news first." Pidge nodded. 

"According to the energy readings, there are no Galran signatures so we can rule that out." A collective sigh of relief swept throughout the room. For a moment the pulsing in Keith's head subsided enough to hear Hunk's quiet voice adding to her remark. 

"Also Coran and I examined the…the chest plate…and even though it looks bad we're pretty sure it's not from a fatal wound. We didn't find anything else so there's good reason to bet on Lance still being alive out there." 

He paused and looked up at Allura who gave him a reassuring smile, one which he returned, blackening eye and all. 

Keith winced internally and made a mental note to check on Hunk later. His knuckles whitened over the handle of the crate. "And the bad news?" he rasped. 

Pidge took her fingers off the keys and set them in her lap before continuing. 

"The bad news is…according to my analysis of the marks on the hull it seems that Lance was attacked while traveling through the wormhole…" 

"How is that even possible?" the words tumbling out of Keith's mouth before he could stop them. But Allura held up a hand before he could go off again. 

"Let her finish. Pidge, please continue." 

"Right." The green paladin looked up at Keith, he could see the anger in her eyes as she spoke. "There was nothing we could use to identify what it was that attacked the red lion. No residue, no cosmic dust or scales or…nothing. It's like a hundred ghosts tore and melted through the metal almost like…" 

Hunk stepped up next to Pidge and placed a hand on her shoulder, eyes narrowed in thought. "Like something had been trying to eat it alive." 

Keith's stomach dropped. He hadn't stopped to think what might have happened to Red too. Thinking back to the savagery with which the debris had been seemingly shredded. It was torn apart as though a swarm of locusts had descended. Keith had seen such carnage in some of the larger farmyards that supplied the local city back in the desert. Did space locusts even exist? 

Allura spoke before Keith's brain could fully process the implications of that thought. "Coran, are there any space creatures in the ship's beastiary that could travel via wormhole?" 

The mustachioed man stroked his namesake thoughtfully. "Not that I recall, though I could pop up to the mainframe and cross referance these markings with any space dwelling species we know about. I'll be needing the scan data from number five of course." Pidge looked up, eyes bright, and nodded sharply before diving back into her computer. 

The princess began smoothing back her hair to pin it away. "Very well. While those two are off on their tasks, Hunk, might you asist me in storing these pieces in the lower hold?" 

Hunk gave her a small nod. "Sure. We'll get these put away in no time." 

"I can help too." Headache be damned Keith wanted to be useful. He hated sitting on his hands more than anything. His head however, had other plans, as a wave of vertigo had him stumbling into Shiro. Their black paldain slung an arm under Keith's shoulders and hefted him up on one side like a sack of Klexian tubers. 

"We'd better get you to bed kiddo. You can help after you've slept this off." With that Shiro was practically hauling him back towards the lift despite his stammered protests. Keith heaved a sigh once the lift doors slid shut in front of them. There was no denying that his head still felt like a bowling ball full of lava at this point. All that standing had been more exhausting than he was willing to admit. 

Keith was well aware his skillset was particularly useful in circumstances like this. But ever since they returned he had been hearing the whispers again. Not all that often at first, but now it was near constant. An unintelligable murmering just on the outer ranges of his hearing. It was beginning to get annoying. 

Especially since it sounded a lot like Lance. 

Keith needed to know he was alright. Needed to know what these voices were trying to tell him. The feeling surged through his bones like a wildfire every time the whispers rose up into something he could almost understand. At times they sounded frantic, crazed even. Those were the times Keith wished he could talk back, find out what they wanted. Other times they were quieter, almost like they weren't even there were it not for the way his brain felt all fuzzy. Were they even real? There was little he could do about it at the moment, and it wasn't like he could come forward to the rest of the team about this. They'd probably just write it off as a complication from the pain or shock. He could barely articulate his own thoughts as it was through his current haze of vice-like pain, his thoughts reflexively turning toward the thin glass door that opened into his sanctuary. He'd reach out his hand to set the controls and a cool mist would fall, steady and gentle from above. Slowly cocooning him in droplets from the world, so he could focus on…on getting rid of whatever it was that was making his head hurt so goddamn much. 

"Here we are." Shiro muttered as he shuffled his burden onto the bed, "Easy does it, I got you." Keith found his legs swept up and his head guided backwards before he could protest. He folded his arms over his forehead and counted the uneven footsteps walked back across the room to pick up the blanket that had found it's way into the far corner. Closing his eyes as the blanket was lofted over him, Keith settled into the familiar sound of the older paladin's deep breaths resonating above him and tried to relax. 

"What happened to making your bed?" Shiro said softly beside him after a few moments of silence. He had probably meant to say it lightly, but the chiding tone only made Keith remember all the times Shiro would remind him to follow protocol if he ever wanted to be a part of the garrison someday. A reality he'd long since forgotten in the wake of their unexpected arrival in the middle of a battle for the fate of the universe. He'd been in such a rush to get to his lion after waiting for the castle to reach the signal's location that routine had been completely thrown out the window. Even if Shiro might, Keith knew the universe wouldn't mind. 

Lance came first. Even if he still couldn't quite figure out why. 

In order to do that he needed to get rid of this stupid headache. Keith let out a long breath in what he hoped sounded like an apology, or maybe an attempt at pushing out some of the oxygen that was feeding the fire in his brain, and rolled over to face the wall. When he didn't hear the expected swoosh of a door he let out another huff, slightly louder this time. 

"Alright, alright I'm gone." an unnaturally smoothed hand rested lightly on his side, directly on top of the slowly fading bruise from the morning's training debacle. Almost as if Shiro remembered, which he in all likelihood he had. Still, Keith was grateful for the support, even if it came at the cost of a stern talk over training safety protocols. The weighted comfort left his side and Keith felt the blanket pull up a little higher. 

"I'm here when you need me, Keith. Rest up." The lights dimmed as the door swished open. 

 

"We'll find him." he added softly, the click of the door ringing through the silence after. 

 

Keith desperately hoped they would. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Lance ran down the stairs as fast as his feet could carry him, skipping the last three steps entirely and nearly landing flat on his face. Barely catching himself with one hand on the banister, he used it to slingshot his way into the kitchen and would have slammed into the center island had it not been for a sudden yank on the back of his hoodie. After he regained his balance Lance looked up sheepishly at his mama, amusement written all over her face. 

"What are you rushing about for mi pequeño delfin?" she chuckled, giving his hair a good tousle before returning to shaving hunks of chocolate off a larger block. A wide cooling rack took up half the countertop, three golden cakes having been set there in the sunlight filtering in through the kitchen window to rest. 

He'd completely forgotten today was her day off from work. Just his luck. Lance rolled his eyes and plunked himself down in his customary stool, settling his head down on folded arms to watch the giant rolls of sweetness tumble off the chopping board and onto the table as she worked. 

"No reason." he lied. 

There was no way he was going to tell her Adi had invited him to go swimming at a waterfall she heard about from the older kids at school and he was secretly trying to sneak out to do just that. He'd get in so much trouble, especially with midterms coming up. Never mind that she might have mentioned a few others were coming. Jimmy might even be there, and never mind that Lance thought he looked cute with his dark hair slicked back after swim class. 

Rosa hummed thoughtfully and began to sweep the pile of shavings into a metal bowl with the flat of the knife. 

"Si tú lo dices. While you're down here, you can help me make this cake for your sister's birthday." She reached over for a paper towel lined bowl piled high with freshly washed strawberries from beside the sink and plunked them down behind her in front of Lance's nose to be stemmed. 

He sunk his head further behind his army barricade and rocked back on his stool. Strawberries had all those seeds that felt like tiny bugs buried deep into the flesh of their berry host. Gross, Lance wanted nothing to do with them. He groaned, sneaking a peak up and saw her slowly stirring the chocolate over a pot of water on the stove oblivious to his complaint. Or maybe she was just biding her time. "Can't I start frosting the cake or something?" he said, pulling the bowl closer so he could begin poking the water droplets on the strawberries and watch the liquid drip down and disappear into the towel below. 

"Strawberries first, hermano." 

Wait, what?

Lance lifted his head to find the broad shoulders of his best friend standing in front of the stove mixing away, his unmistakable headband trailing motionless down his back in long stripes where once had been the long curling locks of his mother. A cold sweat broke out on Lance's forehead and he reached out to hug the bowl of cheerful berries tightly to his chest. Something was terribly wrong. What was Hunk doing here? He glanced at the cakes next to him but the sunlight had disappeared, making them look drab and colorless. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to run.

It felt wrong, and Lance's stomach dropped when Hunk began to hum. It sounded nothing like him. The melody was soft and lilting, echoing unnaturally in a way that strangely made Lance want to listen more. No. He had to go. Now. Besides, Adi was probably wondering where he was right about now. 

Slowly, he edged off the stool still clutching the strawberries fiercely, keeping his eyes trained on the back of Hunk's head. Putting one foot behind the other he backed away and had almost made it to the doorway when a single berry rolled off the pile and onto the floor with a muted thump. Lance looked down at it in horror and froze, knuckles white against the plastic edges of the bowl as he strained to hear over the sound of his own frantic heartbeat. 

The stirring had stopped. 

Lance raised his eyes to meet a horseshoe of purple orbs staring back at him. A long, shadowy body hung from the ceiling where his mama...his friend had been standing seconds before. He felt something unimaginably cold slither around his ankle, and then the other, triggering a cascade of berries rolling away in all directions as the bowl slipped from his arms. The echoing hum was picking up now, steadily attempting to worm its way inside his ears and force him to relax, to let go. As the glow grew closer he could feel himself trembling, but he couldn't move even if he wanted to. The cold was radiating through his limbs and no matter how hard he imagined his legs carrying him further away from the nightmare they would not respond. He watched on, horrified as the smooth face grew close enough to smell, a bitter metallic fume enveloping his senses. The eyes winked out one by one and then it's skin rippled and collapsed inwards, splitting open from within to reveal four needle-like teeth and there was barely a whisper of air as it lunged straight for his neck. 

The only thing he could do was scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update! I've been super busy with the holidays coming up and lots of changes happening at work, but here we are! Thank you all for bearing with me and for everyone who has bookmarked as well. I'm tickled pink you've chosen to give by the ocean a gander, and I did changed the name since to better reflect what's to come. It's looking like Lance might be out of the woods with that fever, but what could his dreams be trying to tell him? And what could those whispers mean to Keith? Thank you everyone for reading, I hope you're enjoying the story as much as I am writing it. *u*


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